


Turn Down These Voices Inside My Head

by Anonymous



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Azula Is Not A Good Sister, Character Study, Developing Friendships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s03e17 The Ember Island Players, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, It's brief and not very graphic but it's there, It's obligatory at this point, Minor Violence, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Ozai (Avatar) is an Asshole, The Gaang Learns How Zuko Got The Scar (Avatar), Zuko (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Zuko (Avatar)-centric, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26380786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The Ember Island Players stir up some unwanted feelings in Zuko.~Or, the obligatory "the gaang finds out how Zuko got his scar" fic, but make it introspective.
Relationships: Aang & Zuko (Avatar), Katara & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka & Zuko (Avatar), Suki & Zuko (Avatar), The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar), Toph Beifong & Zuko
Comments: 34
Kudos: 949
Collections: Anonymous





	Turn Down These Voices Inside My Head

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ATLA fic!! This has been a long time coming. I've been a fan of ATLA for so long, and I really just wanted to do it justice. It's my biggest inspiration for pretty much everything?? I didn't want to mess it up, and I really just didn't know what I wanted to do.  
> I was making pasta the other night, and the opening sentence just went BOOM into my head, and I really just took off with it. I hope y'all enjoy! Feel free to comment, and if you have any constructive criticism, go off, I'd love to hear it. I didn't watch the episode to prepare, mostly because I didn't want to lose this concept that was floating around in my head, specific lines and shit. If I got anything wrong, whoops, but it's not really the most important thing in this fic.
> 
> ! The violence in this isn't that graphic, but if you're sensitive to that kind of thing, feel free to skip a bit around "Zuko still thinks about it" !
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Title is from I Can't Make You Love Me by Bonnie Raitt, I believe. I listen to the cover by Dave Thomas Junior, so I hope I got that right.

Zuko was never supposed to feel this way about his father again. He was never supposed to feel this crippling frustration about his father not caring about him. He doesn’t know why the play hit him so hard, wrenching up all these suppressed feelings about his life and his family.

 _Suppressing emotions is not wise, nephew,_ he can practically hear his uncle telling him. _It is best to face them, and move_ through _them._

Well, having an entire play take all your worst and most painful memories and shove them back into your face is certainly one way to face them, Zuko has to admit. He had felt practically rooted to his seat when “Zuko” had been on stage.

He thinks about the Fire Nation productions that he’d only _recently_ learned to be propaganda, antagonizing the other nations or making a mockery out of them. Is this what it would feel like for members of the other nations? Zuko knows that what he’s experiencing probably couldn’t be worse, and yet—somehow it still feels crueler than any other play he’d seen.

It had hit him deep, somewhere in his core making him burn from the inside out. 

A lot of it was fine; he’d accepted who he used to be, and changed from the angry person he had been for years. He wasn’t embarrassed about it anymore. Uncle always said there was no point in being embarrassed because the moments were already gone. Zuko assumes that Iroh meant it about a lot more than just embarrassing memories, but he doesn’t know how to do that. He _thought_ he already had. 

The way it had portrayed Zuko’s uncle stung, sure, but Zuko knows that Iroh isn’t just some lazy old man. He doesn’t _need_ everyone to know what a great man his uncle is— _he_ knows, and anyone who _knows_ his uncle does, too. Sure, it made the guilt lurking in his mind more prominent to see the players showing the way he had treated his uncle, but he’s already aware of that regret. He has to face that every single day.

The most surprisingly painful part was the scar. 

It was on the right. 

It was on the _wrong side._

And it could’ve been for some stupid reason. It could’ve only been on the right to face the audience as much as possible. It could’ve been that they _accidentally_ put in on the wrong side, in a rush to get on stage. But Zuko can’t help but feel like it wasn’t a mistake. Like it was intentional, without any malicious intent—more than is already a given. Which makes it worse. 

Zuko can’t help but feel like they just _don’t know_. Like the worst day of his life wasn’t significant enough for anyone to remember, brushing it off the way Zuko can’t. The way he _wishes_ he could, as though it isn’t a permanent reminder of his father’s disappointment in him. Something he has to deal with every single day. 

And no one remembers. 

His _father_ doesn’t remember. 

And Zuko _knows_ his father can’t even be called that. He’s never been a _father_. He knows that it shouldn’t have happened. Ozai shouldn’t have harmed a child, much less his own son, and Zuko _knows_ that. And he’s prepared to help kill him when the time comes—and it’s coming quickly. 

But it _hurts._

Does his father even _think_ about it? Does he remember why it happened in the first place? Does he ever think about Zuko at _all?_

Zuko still thinks about it every time he sees fire. 

He’s learned to not _fear_ fire—especially from anyone who isn’t his father—but he _thinks_ about it. 

He thinks about the terror that _faded_ for _just a moment_ as his father had cupped his face, only to reignite along with that hand that had held him.  
The way he had even _thought_ that his father might not hurt him. As though all the scalding fingertips digging into his arms when he would mess up his form or speak too loudly at the wrong times weren’t signs. As though the first time his father had hurt him had been an _accident_ and not a red flag. 

He thinks about the agony that had cut through him like a knife as his father had melted his skin. He hadn't fought as the Agni Kai had started, but he _had_ tried to get away when his father had burned him. He’d grabbed at his father’s wrist—or _tried_ to with his eyes squeezed firmly shut—but his father had only grabbed the back of his head with his other hand, drawing him closer as Zuko had pleaded with him to _stop, please, stop, it hurts._

He’d heard his sister laughing, had heard the crowd cheering for this act of pure _cruelty_. And then the roaring in his ears had drowned out the roaring flames, and he woke up on a ship, with his uncle hovering over him, almost blind in one eye, a ringing in his left ear that hasn’t gone away since, and _you will learn discipline and suffering will be your teacher_ echoing in his mind. 

The implication of his _own_ nation—his own _father_ —not remembering the worst day of his life… it hurts more than Zuko would’ve expected. 

“Hey Sparky, quit moping.” 

Toph is watching him from across the fire, and Zuko realizes he’s been zoned out pretty much since they left the theatre. He looks down and sees a bowl of stew in his hands that Katara must have made, untouched and forgotten. He doesn’t remember walking back or her cooking.

“I’m not moping,” he mutters, digging his spoon into the stew and taking a bite, holding back a wince at how cold it is. 

“You’re _definitely_ moping,” she laughs, tossing a pebble at him that he doesn’t bother to avoid. He watches it hit him in the chest and drop into his stew. He sighs. 

“What’s wrong?” Katara asks, seemingly sensing that Zuko isn’t just moping about being portrayed badly. 

If Zuko can even say that. Is it considered being portrayed badly if that’s how he acted for years? Is it considered being portrayed badly by recounting the awful things you _actually said?_

He thinks about Iroh, sitting in the dark prison cell, turning his back on him. 

He thinks about Iroh, somewhere far away, free.

Free from Zuko? 

“Zuko,” a voice says beside him, and he jerks his head up to see Sokka, sitting beside him with a concerned look on his face. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine,” he says, but it comes out strained. He clears his throat, trying to fight against the lump in it. 

“Look, I know everyone’s a little upset about the play,” Aang starts, but Toph cuts him off. 

“Yeah,” she snorts. “I’m sorry your characters weren’t as accurate as _mine_.” 

“ _But,_ ” Aang says, placing a hand on Katara’s shoulder before she can snap at Toph, “I don’t think we should let it bother us. It’s just a silly play. They don’t know anything about us.” 

“Aang’s right,” Suki adds. “I mean, I wasn’t even in it, so clearly they haven’t been well informed.” Sokka gives her a sympathetic look, but she only shrugs. “It’s fine, I’m not bothered—and that’s my point. It’s not personal.” 

“It’s kind of personal,” Katara says. “I mean, what’s more _personal_ than someone making a mockery of you for everyone to see.” 

Zuko can’t hide his grimace. He looks into the fire and all he can see is his father in the flames. 

“But they don’t _actually_ know any of us. We’re just the Avatar and his friends to them.” 

“Except Zuko,” Aang adds. 

Everyone’s eyes are on him again, and Zuko can’t pretend _not_ to notice. “What?” 

“Well, obviously it’s not that we’re curious about why your own nation would make a fool out of you,” Toph deadpans. “I don’t know where you’d get that idea.” 

“Toph’s right.” Zuko’s suddenly aware again that Sokka is sitting next to him as he asks the exact question that Zuko doesn't want him to. “Why is your nation willing to make a hate piece about you?”

“I don’t think that’s exactly a hate piece, Sokka,” Katara says.

“That’s not my point.” 

They all stare at him expectantly, and if Zuko couldn’t already tell that they’re all overly open with their feelings, this would’ve been the moment he realized. This is not something that he’s very willing to be open about, and, frankly, he thought he was being pretty clear about it. 

So he states the obvious.

“I mean, it’s not like I’m their prince anymore.” 

“ _What?_ ” They all say at once. 

Okay, so, not so obvious.

“What do you mean _what?_ ” Zuko asks, slightly dumbstruck.

“You’re not a prince anymore?” Katara asks.

“I don’t think I’ve really been a prince for years,” Zuko says. 

“Since when?” Sokka demands.

“Since I was banished.” 

“You were _banished?!_ ” He all but shouts.

Zuko stares at them all, bewildered. He really thought they knew. He thought everyone would’ve known, but now he’s beginning to think that he was being a bit self-centered with that thought. “I’ve been banished from the fire nation for over three years,” he says, simply. “And if that technically didn’t mean I wasn't a prince, then I’m sure trying to kill my father was enough of a reason.”

Aang’s brows are furrowed, and Sokka’s mouth is hanging open, his wide eyes matching his sister’s. Suki is just staring at him, but Toph is grinning. “Go Sparky,” she says and Katara frowns at her which only makes Zuko more confused.

“You tried to kill your dad?” Aang asks, and it’s so innocently confused that it makes Zuko’s head spin. 

“Why are you upset?” Zuko asks, staring back at him. “That’s what we’re _all_ trying to do, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah, but…” he trails off, looking lost, but Suki jumps in. 

“I guess it’s just a bit surprising,” she finishes for him. “I didn’t think… I mean, to try to kill your father? Even if he’s evil, that’s gotta be hard.”

Zuko shrugs. He doesn’t know what to say. Attacking him wasn’t the hard part of that confrontation. “I guess,” he says, dumbly. “Did you guys think I would be allowed to just leave and join you guys?”

“I don’t know,” Aang says, and it sounds a little defeated.

“But, wait, backtracking here,” Sokka interjects. “Why were you _banished?_ And, four years ago?” 

“Yeah,” Katara adds. “You would’ve been, what, fourteen?” 

“Thirteen,” he corrects and she gapes at him.

“But, why would… how do you even…” Aang flounders helplessly, looking increasingly distressed, and Zuko wants him to stop looking at him so… so _sadly_. 

“It’s okay,” he says, almost desperate to stop the conversation at this point. “Look, you asked, and I answered. I’m not their prince, and I committed treason, so I don’t think they’d have qualms about mocking me in a stupid play.” 

“ _Hey_ ,” Toph exclaims suddenly. “You don’t get to brush it off as some _stupid play_. You were more upset about it than _Katara!_ ” 

“That’s different,” Zuko says, and regrets it immediately. 

“What do you mean _different?_ ” Katara snaps. “Am I the only one who doesn’t get to be upset about the play? It was rude and inaccurate, so I’m sorry if I’m mad about it! And besides, it wasn’t like _your_ caricature was all that far off.” 

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Zuko tries. “You’re right, it’s _not_ that far off.”

“Then what _are_ you saying?”

“Yeah, what are you upset about if you think it’s accurate?” Sokka asks.

“The scar’s on the wrong side,” Toph says, and Zuko prays that Agni will come down and _get him out of here_. “That’s what you were muttering about earlier, right Sparky?” 

“I—yes, but—”

“So it’s okay for you to be upset about your scar being on the wrong side, but I can’t be mad about being portrayed as some love-sick _airhead?_ ” Katara is almost red in the face now, and Sokka and Aang are looking at him with poorly disguised judgment, and Toph keeps on adding fuel to the fire. He’s beginning to hear his blood rushing in his ears, and his heart rate is picking up, and he doesn’t know how to calm everyone down. 

“Why are you even mad about the scar?” Suki asks, quieter than the rest, but it still feels accusatory. “I would be angrier about how they showed me speaking to my uncle if I were you.” 

“Of course I’m upset about that, but it’s not like it’s _untrue_ —” 

“You talked like that to _Iroh?_ ” Toph demands, and her tone makes Zuko clench his fists. 

“That was pretty mean,” Aang says. “The scar isn’t as big a deal compared to that.” 

Zuko squeezes his eyes shut. He can feel the fire go from embers to roaring flames before he can see it, exploding along with his frustration as he glares around at them.

“ _Stop it!_ ” he shouts. “Agni forbid—I’m not angry about the _play_ , okay? I’m angry that my _father_ —” 

He cuts himself off before he can continue, stopping himself on the edge of revealing something he can’t take back. Before all the emotions he’s been keeping locked up inside of himself can escape, leaving him cold and hollow in the wake of the fire of his frustration and resentment.

He takes a few deep breaths, imagining his uncle is there to guide him, and feels the fire shrink back down—not quite embers again, but not the howling flames they had been before. 

“I don’t want to talk about this,” he says, opening his eyes and avoiding looking at any of their faces. He doesn’t want to see what they think of him. 

He turns to leave, tries to run from the feelings boiling over in his chest—but there’s a hand on his wrist, holding him back. He yanks it back and turns to see Sokka’s imploring eyes. 

“Hey, wait,” he says, and Zuko rubs at his wrist, trying to pretend it didn’t feel like a burn. “We’re sorry. We don’t—we want to know why you’re upset, Zuko. We shouldn’t have freaked out—” he glares at Katara who’s looking guilty now as he says it, “—and we want to hear what you have to say. Please.” 

Zuko sighs. He still doesn’t want to talk about it, but here Sokka is, handing him an olive branch and asking him to take it. 

Frankly, it’s a little frustrating. If Zuko _doesn’t_ take it, what then? Are they going to be mad at _him_ for not wanting to talk to them after _they_ were the ones antagonizing him? Are they going to cast him out, too?

He doesn’t like the way he’s been shoved back into his insecurities, and he _wants_ to blame the play for it along with the resurgence of the rest of his long-buried emotions, but when he thinks about it, maybe he’s been this insecure the whole time. And maybe that’s why he’s still worried about the group not wanting him here. 

Why he’s still trying to _prove_ he belongs here.

 _Would it be so terrible to tell them?_ Iroh’s voice asks in the back of his head. 

Zuko wants to say yes. Yes, it would be terrible, because why would he _ever_ put himself in a vulnerable position like that. Why would he ever _willingly_ tell the story of his lowest point to prying ears?

But for some reason, he knows it wouldn’t be that bad. 

He thinks of Katara’s firm reassurance whenever Aang doesn’t get a form down on his first or second try, or when Sokka doesn’t catch anything when he’s hunting. He thinks of Suki stroking Sokka’s hair or holding Aang’s hand when they wake up from nightmares. He thinks about the way Toph is always watching Sokka’s back when they’re in danger, even if she pretends she doesn’t care. He thinks about Sokka trying to cheer Katara up about their father even when _he’s_ struggling just as much as she is. He thinks about Aang keeping Katara company when she’s cooking or going off with Suki to join her practice when she mentions being homesick.

He thinks about how much they care for each other—for _people_ —so deeply. 

Why would it be different for him?

 _You know why_ , Ozai says in his head. _You are not worth it._

Azula’s voice whispers, _you’ve never been good enough, Zuzu, and you never will be. Father knows it. Even mother knew it._

And then his uncle’s voice cuts through the noise. Slicing through the angry whispers of his family. 

_Who are you and what do you want?_

Zuko wants this. He wants the comfort of friends. Of _true_ family. He _wants to tell them._

He doesn’t know if it’s because he’s tired of carrying it around with him, or because he knows they're going to find out sooner or later, but he wants to tell them.

“Zuko?” He looks up to see Aang staring at him with wide eyes. “You’re angry at your father?”

Zuko lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Yeah. I am.”

Even though getting through the story is difficult—between forcing his body not to betray him, steeling himself so his voice doesn’t crack and his hands don’t shake, and the way the group continuously erupts into anger on his behalf—once he’s done, he doesn’t feel empty.

Once the flames of his resentment go out, he isn’t left with cold. He isn’t hollow and sad. He doesn’t feel the aching in his chest that he expected, or maybe for some twisted reason _wanted_ to feel. He feels _full_.

He can feel the warmth of his _family_ filling up his chest, igniting sparks of something different, something he wants to keep and protect. 

He feels it when Katara reassures him later that night that his father shouldn’t have burned him. When she continues, brushing off Zuko’s small _I know_ , by tilting his chin up to look her in the eyes and assuring him that _he shouldn’t have done it, but it’s also not your fault for not fighting him_. He can feel it swell when in that moment, when his eyes finally well up with tears, she pulls him into a hug.

He feels it when he jolts awake from a nightmare that night—not about his father, but about the group _leaving_ him after he told them the story—and Suki’s hand reaches out in the dark to grip _his_. He can feel it when he wakes up with the sun, and she’s still holding onto him. 

He can feel it when Toph goes with him to get supplies in town the next day under the pretense of being bored. He can feel its heat when he catches her stepping between him and fire nation soldiers they see in the market. 

He feels it when Sokka asks to spar with him, blatantly trying to boost his confidence by complimenting even the most basic sword fighting techniques. He feels it when he drapes an arm around his shoulder and squeezes him before they head back to the house. 

He can feel it grow when Aang sits next to him when they eat, or when he asks Zuko to go down to the beach with him whenever Zuko finds himself staring up at the portrait of his father in the main room.

He feels more complete than he ever has, as though he finally found the missing piece of a puzzle he didn’t know he was missing in the first place. And when he thinks of his uncle, he doesn’t think of the way he turned from him in that prison. He doesn’t think of his look of disappointment. 

When he closes his eyes, he can see Iroh's prideful smile.

**Author's Note:**

> **Just thought I'd add at the end here, that I almost ended it at "Yeah. I am." _right before_ the gaang _actually_ finds out about how he got his scar, but that would've been really mean and I continued it.**


End file.
